Our scene opens, inside of a busy, feverishly energetic kitchen for one of the most prestigious, high class, upper crust, premier restaurants in the entire world. The place is so exclusive and elite, less than an eighth of the population knows of its existence. Only the worthy, select chosen few are aware of its location. To merely make mention of its name on camera, could mean certain social demise for any and all who would carelessly commit this unforgivable crime. Fortunately this narrator would never make such a mistake and willingly fall victim on the metaphorical sword of doom. This wisdom of course allows me to live to see another day in the sun, so to speak, thriving as a narrator, tasked with regaling all who might care to give a listen to the tales of Hootie H. Hootie. The tiny stuffed owl that decided to join a wrestling federation.

Speaking of Hootie, we happen to find her inside the kitchen of this chic, trendy, upscale restaurant. Her attention fully placed upon a slice of chocolate cake, covered in ediable gold flakes, that's resting on an iridescent, mother of pearl plate, waiting to be served to its intended consumer. Created from rare cocoa beans, shipped from Peru and some of the finest sugars and flour ever used to make a last course, this confectionery wonder was a divine dessert and a culinary masterpiece. If ever there was a piece of cake intended for the gods, this would be it. And yet here Hootie stood, mere inches away from it.

With all the hustle and bustle that is going on in the kitchen, Hootie goes pretty much undetected, somehow. An aspect that she takes full advantage of when she hops onto the plate and hurries towards the cake. Excitedly hooting all the while. As this occurs, a metallic dome quickly gets placed over the plate. Trapping Hootie next to the slice of cake. Much to her surprise and delight. The waiter that covered the cake, carries the plate to the table and the expecting patron of the fine establishment. Resting the plate down, the waiter then lifts the dome and presents the piece of decadent delight with pride. What's revealed is without a doubt "gasp" worthy, but not because it is the most sought after chocolate cake in all of existence. No, the customer heaves a heavy breath in astonishment because there's a small owl, laying on the plate, where the slice of cake should have been and she's completely covered in chocolate.

"Ahhhh! Rat!"

Screams the patron. This alerts the waiter to the plate and when he sees what resides in the cake's stead, he bellows...

"Oh mon dieu! Un rat!"

The waiter instantly starts slapping at Hootie with a thick, cloth napkin. Hootie leaps from the plate and lands on the floor. Running for her life as fast as her tiny feet can carry her. That's when the waiter decides to give chase and he grabs a butcher knife from another waiter, that's slicing choice cuts of meat at a nearby table. After doing this, the waiter takes aim, while in mid-sprint through the dinning area, literally filled with people and throws the knife. Like a man playing darts down at the local pub. The knife soars across the room and stabs into the wall, just a matter of a hair's width from Hootie. However, Hootie doesn't miss a beat, she jumps up and uses the knife, now protruding from the wall like it's a springboard. Vaulting herself up to the ledge of the closest window, she proceeds to give the waiter a full on raspberry before she hops out to safety. Narrowly escaping a fate most foul.

---

"Hello everybody! It is I! Hootie H. Hootie! The first and only stuffed owl to ever wrestle in the history of televised wrestling. Thursday is my debut as a regular entertainer on Anarchy and boy, am I excited! I get to take on Mini Morbid in a basket match. When I first heard about this fight, I told all my friends that I couldn't wait to jump inside the picnic basket and see what types of treats might be inside. Then that's when I was informed that would mean that I lost the match. Which is confusing because how could getting first pick on sandwiches be considered losing. That sounds like winning in my book. Oh well, what do I know? I'm just an owl, fighting in a human's world."

"Listen here, Mini Morbid. When I beat you and knock you into that basket. Don't eat all of the food inside, okay? Save some for me for after the match. I promise I won't hurt you too badly if you do that for me. And not only the gross things that nobody would want to eat, alright? Save some of the good stuff. Like cake! And BBQ ribs! Or steak!"

"Maybe after our fight we can hang out and join forces. Team up against everyone that's bigger and taller than us. Those that would put us down for being vertically challenged. What do you say? I personally think its a great idea and I look forward to your answer."